Delivery - A Collaborative Piece
by x.Vivace
Summary: "In the midst of a rather lengthy gaming session, Bakura orders Chinese. He's pretty surprised by the peculiar individual who delivers it..." Jem Kallop and I decided since we both were out of inspiration to write a little one shot together. Please enjoy!


**A/N: Hello! So and I wrote this little piece of writing together. I started it off and she finished it, after we plotted together XD I do hope you all enjoy this little piece of Thiefshipping, we had fun writing it! - Jem**

**..**

"Bloody hell!"

Bakura snarled, throwing his mouse down in frustration. _Nothing_ was going right. He collapsed back on the couch, tempted to give his computer a good kick just to get some of his pent-up frustration out, but he would seriously regret that when he wanted to return to the game only to find the screen smashed in. Honestly, sometimes he wondered why he even _bothered_ with World of Warcraft; it drove him insane.

Crossing his arms with an annoyed huff, Bakura kicked back on the couch and rolled over, pushing the desk away for now. He rubbed at his temples. Tension headaches rolled behind his eyes, making them redden and water slightly, and his skin was sunken and pale with dark circles running under his eyes. Well, sitting in a dark room and staring at a screen for hours on end probably wasn't the most sensible idea.

Bakura curled his feet up under him, closing his eyes with a low groan. His mouth felt dry and his stomach growled unpleasantly, reminding him rather harshly that it had been far too long since he last gave it any attention. He grumbled.

With harsh, creaking movements, Bakura forced himself upright, long legs swinging off the couch, and he stumbled into the kitchen with one hand pressed to his dizzy forehead. Once the world had righted itself he focused on the cupboards, grabbing a glass to fill with water. The cool liquid eased his aching throat. Feeling marginally more awake, Bakura searched roughly through the cupboards, snarling at their emptiness. He couldn't even remember the last time he went to the store, so it didn't look like there was much he could do about food unless he ordered in.

Deciding, Bakura grabbed his phone and a random menu – Chinese, by the looks of things – and went back to crash on the couch. Sipping at his water, he dialled the number and picked the first edible-looking thing off the menu, uncaring what it was as long as it was _food_; enough to keep him going for the next fourteen hours of gameplay, anyway. He settled into the couch and closed his eyes for a few moments to await the arrival of his meal.

The buzzer finally sounded. Bakura clambered begrudgingly back to his feet and picked up the receiver, holding it to his ear with a muffled unintelligible grunt. "Mmhuh?"

"Chinese delivery," a rather bored-sounding voice responded. The speaker had just the slightest hint of an accent, but otherwise, his voice was harsh and grating to Bakura's oversensitive ears.

"Third floor," was all Bakura grunted in response before he slammed the receiver back down. He rubbed at his temples, closing his eyes and giving his head a small shake to try and get rid of the buzzing that was settling there.

A few minutes later there was a loud knock at the door, making Bakura wince. He stood and strode over, throwing it wide open and thrusting a hand out for the food with a grunt. His eyes blinked open, widened, then narrowed in suspicion. "Who the hell are you?!"

The person standing on the other side of the door arched one perfectly-styled blond eyebrow. "I'm the food guy. I have your Chinese."

"Like hell you are," Bakura snorted. His eyes ran appreciatively up and down the form of the other, taking in his glossy brown skin, exotic violet eyes, and sandy blond hair.

The other's brow lifted higher. "Well, whether you doubt me or not, I have your food." He lifted a black insulated bag and extended his hand, evidently waiting for Bakura to take it.

Bakura made no move except to smirk slowly. His eyes moved up and down the body of the young man in front of him; he was certainly _not_ the sort of person Bakura expected to be delivering food. His clothing was tight, flattering his slender figure, and his shirt barely covered even half of his chest. Brown skin glinted out from every available service, and what clothing existed was so skin-tight that it barely left anything to the imagination.

Bakura arched a brow. "When did Chinese food places start hiring hookers?"

"You _what_?!" Predictably, the other's violet eyes widened in absolute horror before narrowing into an angry glare. "You want to say that again?"

"Well what am I supposed to think when you show up looking like ... that..." Bakura's words trailed off and he summed up his statement with a simple flick of his hand, taking in the whole of the other's extremely inappropriate attire.

The other's nostrils flared. "This is called a _sense of fashion_."

"But of course." Bakura's trademark smirk flitted across his face and he leaned confidently against the door jamb, crossing his arms.

The other snorted. "At least I don't look like I haven't seen daylight in about five hundred years."

"Am I supposed to be offended?" One of Bakura's brows lifted and his smirk grew. "Because you're having almost the exact opposite effect."

"Well maybe that's what I was going for," the other muttered.

A dark chuckle escaped Bakura's lips. "So are you going to tell me your name, or shall I merely stick to calling you _handsome_?"

"If that's your best pick-up line, you won't be calling me anything," came the cutting response. Violet eyes peeked out from a white-blond fringe, eyeing Bakura with an intense curiosity.

Bakura stretched deliberately. "Oh, you won't see my best for a long while yet." He smirked. "You should, however, tell me your name."

"...Marik." The other paused for barely a moment before speaking, a slow grin showing pearly white teeth in his brown face. "And who is this extremely arrogant customer of Chinese food?"

"Bakura," he chuckled. "And that's another thing – I thought Chinese restaurants only hired Chinese people."

Marik shrugged. "Apparently Egypt is close enough."

Bakura pursed his lips with an appreciative nod. His eyes dragged down Marik's body again, taking in the heat of his skin, the way he was obviously _built_ to tease. There was no way Bakura was passing up on an opportunity like this.

Pushing off the door frame, Bakura's dark eyes burned as he sent Marik a smouldering glance. "So, _Marik_, are you coming in or do I have to kidnap you?"

Bakura watched as the shorter teen split a smile and looked up through his eyelashes, the sparkle of a bad idea gleaming over breathtaking lavender irises.

"You going to move out of my way or what?" Marik said, shifting the insulated black bag containing the food in his arms and peeking past Bakura, into his living room. He didn't wait for an answer, instead turning to the side and slipping past.

Bakura couldn't help but smirk when their bodies brushed together—a lot more than necessary. He tailed Marik into the house and shut the door.

"I would invite you to take a seat on the couch, but that would rather presumptive of me, hmm?" Bakura said, eyeing his houseguest closely.

Marik had fire in his eyes when he plopped down on the couch anyway, crossing his legs to make a point. He flipped his white-blonde hair. "Yes, it would be."

Eyes narrowed, Bakura studied the boy. Everything about him suggested this: he was a tease. A sexy, tanned, muscular, crop top-abusing, chain-wearing tease. He was willing to bet the kid was underage, too.

Bakura rolled his computer chair to the edge of the couch and turned it backwards. He slid into his most familiar seat and leaned on the backrest, meeting eyes with his handsome houseguest.

"You have quite lovely eyes," he said, lowering his voice a bit. He knew his accent was effective at wooing most, and he did hope the kid was classified as "most" in that sense. He needed to break past the teasing nature of his new companion.

Marik smirked. "You have lovely taste in games."

The white-haired male wasn't shocked when his plan didn't entirely work. He glanced at the computer and saw that he'd left World of Warcraft open. "You play?"

"I dabble. Obsess. Whatever."

"Don't we all?" Bakura drawled, well aware of the effect the online RPG had on most people.

"And you play a warrior? I could see you in the role of the big bad tank," Marik said.

Bakura took note of the pastel eyes that trailed over his shoulders. Maybe his _accent_ wasn't his ticket to hooking up with this guy. He raised an eyebrow and smirked one-sidedly."Yes? And what role do you prefer?"

The unspoken _"top or bottom?"_ rang through the room, forcing a smile onto Marik's now rosy cheeks.

"DPS. Mostly casters. My main is a fire mage."

"Steamy, just like you."

"Hmph. Smooth."

"I tend to be." Bakura winked. "Now, how would you like to split this Chinese with me? We can sit and talk for a while, yes?"

"I _am_ on the clock, Bakura…" Marik said, looking down at his own shoes. When his head tilted up to meet Bakura's gaze, he was grinning wildly. "But I hate my job, so I suppose I could stay. I won't be eating any of that, however."

Bakura's brows furrowed. Sure, it was Chinese, but not questioning it was normally the best approach to eating it, and the kid was surely making him question it. "What's wrong with it?"

"First of all, I'm a vegetarian," Marik said with pride, as if there weren't a million of them.

Bakura resisted the urge to roll his eyes, instead nodding to show he understood. He took the liberty of unzipping Marik's delivery bag and pulling out his order—and a few more boxes that were presumably the next deliveries on Marik's schedule. They wouldn't be getting the food anyway, if Bakura had anything to say about it, so it would be a shame to see it all go to waste.

That said, he unfolded the top of his first box and examined the contents. "Got any cookware?"

"Of course," he said, pulling a plastic-wrapped fork from the bottom of the delivery bag. "But like I said, I wouldn't eat that."

"Yeah, yeah, you're a vegetarian." Bakura quickly unwrapped the fork on the demand of his aching stomach and moved to take his first bite.

"…And they're quite unsanitary in that kitchen."

Bakura scowled, dropping the fork into the box. He looked up at Marik, but as he opened his mouth to say something, the ring of a cell phone filled the room.

"That would be my boss. This is going to be funny."

Bakura watched as Marik accepted the call. He put it on speaker and held the device between them.

_"What the hell, Marik? Did you hit a kid or something? There's no reason for you to still be on that delivery."_

"There's plenty reason, Jacklyn," he replied, once again eyeing Bakura with spice in his eyes. "And reason number one is: I fucking quit."

Bakura's eyebrows raised in shock. What was he up to?

_"What? Seriously?"_

"Yeah. My shift ends in twenty minutes, but you can go ahead and clock me out now if you want. And I'm assuming since it's such a cocksuck job, I don't have to turn in any resignation."

_"I fucking warned Rachel against hiring…"_

When she trailed off, Marik rolled his eyes. "What? A gay kid? A queer? A fag?"

There was a snort on the other end. _"You said it, kiddo, not me. Come clean out your locker and you're free to go."_

"Whatever. Bye," Marik said, immediately hanging up. Once he locked his phone and sat it on the coffee table, there was silence for a moment, and it was most definitely a little awkward.

Marik broke it with a smirk. "I'm so glad I never have to see that dumb bitch again. You have no idea."

Bakura replied, "Don't you have to go back and clean out your locker?"

"I never had anything in it. I hated that job, and everyone there hated me. They're a bunch of bigots." Marik's eyes were once again ablaze, but with a different emotion. Fury. His arms were crossed in a little pout, and Bakura would almost dare to call him cute.

When Bakura didn't reply, Marik continued, "And since I'm a gay and Egyptian, it was pretty clear from the start they weren't going to like me."

Bakura made a face of mock surprise. "Holy fuck. You're gay?"

"Guilty as charged." A slow grin stretched across Marik's lips. "Also totally guilty of _dying_ to see your talent tree build and gear setup on your warrior."

Bakura chuckled. "Let me get my laptop. It's Alienware, wired for gaming. I did mods on it myself too. You like computers?"

As he was moving to get up, Marik laid a hand on his forearm. "I've never really been into them, but I can learn."

The Egyptian teen's smile was charming. Bakura returned it with his signature smirk that flashed his white teeth. Right then, they had a moment that was silent, but meaningful. Their eyes lingered and Bakura wasn't sure if he'd ever actually been attracted to someone's personality before, but he was sure he was attracted to this kid. His attitude, his flare—it was all such a fresh start.

He might even be okay with not fucking the kid immediately.

As that thought passed through his mind, Marik's eyes flickered downward…

And set right on Bakura's lips.

He felt his features soften a bit as the mood got heavier. Marik was glancing slowly between Bakura's eyes and lips. His smile had faded quite a bit to a gentle curve, and Bakura seriously could not take how hot he looked.

The kiss was short and had little movement, but Bakura felt more emotion packed into it than any make out session he'd ever participated in. Marik's hand was still resting on his forearm, his fingers gently running through the fine body hair.

When they separated, their faces remained close and both their expressions shared a silent "wow".

Bakura laughed through his nose. "About those characters…"

"Uh, yeah. Get your laptop," Marik said, nodding and smiling brightly. "And I hope I'm not being presumptive by asking if you'd join me on the couch…?"

**..**

**A/N: Hey guys! It's here, and I'm so glad you stopped by to read our collab piece. Thank you for your support. :) - xv**


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